


The Bitterness of the Rose

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, First Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last hours of the Dark Elf, Eöl. </p><p>Type: Angst/Drama<br/>Character: Eol<br/>Rating: PG</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitterness of the Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Author's Note** : Spoilers for the Silmarillion. A sad little vinigette that struck me one night for I have become enamored of the story of Eöl and Aredhel. 

 

**Disclaimer** : The characters herein are not mine and are the master, Tolkien's, those that he spent the majority of his life completing and bringing to life. 

 

**Summary** : The last hours of the Dark Elf, Eöl. 

 

_Italics_ denotes a flashback; numbers denote excerpts.

_ The Bitterness of the Rose _

_"This choice only is given you: to abide here or to die here; and so also for your son." [The King had commanded]_

_Then Eöl looked into the eyes of King Turgon, and he was not daunted, but stood long without word or movement while a still silence fell upon the hall; and Aredhel was afraid, knowing that he was perilous Suddenly, swift as a serpent, he seized a javelin that he held hid beneath his cloak and cast it at Maeglin, crying:_

_"The second choice I take and for my son also! You shall not hold what is mine!"_

_But Aredhel sprang before the dart, and it smote her in the shoulder; and Eöl was overborne by many and set in bonds and led away…[1]_

_~*~_

_How he regretted those brash words and deeds now!_ The Dark Elf sat still and sullen in a corner of his cell. It had been decided by Turgon to house him down here for the night and judgment would be reserved until morning's light at the behest of Aredhel. But Eöl was no fool. He could not expect mercy from the Noldorin King whose sister he had mortally wounded. 

 

Eöl supposed he could not expect a better fate for there was nothing left for him now. His family had forsaken him and his home was forever gone- lost to him in the darkness of Nan Elmoth.  

_Return now to your dwelling in the darkness of Nan Elmoth; for my heart warns me that if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither. [2]_

 

            The damned son of Fëanor's words had rung true and the Dark Elf knew his fate.  His smithy and his halls would fall into dust and darkness; his servants depart and the valleyed forest would swallow up that which had been his home. 

 

            Thinking of his home made him rue the day he had followed his wife and son from the wilds of Nan Elmoth to the Noldorin Kingdom of Gondolin. He had been amazed at the vastness and beauty of the White City but all the more hatred had burned in his heart for those who had slain his kin. He had known that his wife was a Noldo herself, certainly, but her beauty hid no stain or mar that the others in the city had tried to hide from him. 

 

            Eöl clenched his fists, slamming them helplessly against the stone walls to vent his rage. He did so until his hands bled but that could not assuage the hatred and loathing he felt for the beautiful palace of the High Elves. _Oh, to be gone from here on swift wings! Even if they be the wings of Death!_

 

He would wear the garments of his own House in death in honor of those Teleri who had been slain by his wife's kin in battle. Even the elves of Gondolin dared not take that right from him. Even now, he was mailed though his weapons had been taken. The sword he had discarded for his mail would serve him no use now but to weight even more upon his already heavy heart. 

 

Absently, he reached for his throat and fingered the _galvorn_ pendant thoughtfully. It was a lovely piece of silver but softer and shone with the light of the stars that he himself had bathed it in with love then. He had meticulously handcrafted it into the shape of the Gil-Estel, the Hope of the Elves. She had wondered at its beauty and wandered far under it with him. Even now, in such a darkness, it shone with a pale light and illuminated his grim, noble features. 

 

It was a wondrous piece, one of his best if he did say so himself- wrought for Aredhel on the day of their wedding. She had left it behind when her son had beguiled her into journeying to her kin in Gondolin. He would have returned it to her. With a sigh that sounded more like a half-choked sob, his face fell into his hands and the pendant slipped from his grasp.  

 

How long he shed his tears of rage and sorrow, he did not know. Time did not pass here but he guessed it perhaps to be early evening for the sun's last red light spilled through the bars of his cell and illuminated his silver hair like sunset upon the river. _The stars would be out soon…_

            

"Eöl," the soft word made the elf forget his misery as he raised his head. That soft voice that had eased his loneliness in Nan Elmoth… that had been his comfort and his pride… that had ultimately led him to this darkness and despair and burned him for he had not yet lost his love for her… 

 

            "Aredhel." He rose, unable to believe it was truly she. But there she was- his wife and love- standing just beyond the bars of his cell, peering at him with dark, pain-filled eyes. He stepped towards her beseechingly, words of apology and prayers for forgiveness already on his lips but they died before spoken as he espied the one who had accompanied her. Eöl looked long upon his son with no word. Maeglin stood silent with a hand on his mother's uninjured shoulder. 

 

            "Have you no words yet? Wilt thou not speak with thy father, Maeglin?" the Dark Elf asked sharply of his sullen son. But Maeglin returned nothing and stepped back into the shadows at his mother's bidding. Aredhel reached through the bars with one hand and gently touched her lord and husband's face, startled and sorrowful as she felt the wetness of his cheek. Eöl looked into her deep eyes, not bothering to hide his sadness and regret any longer. 

 

            "Were you not happy with me? Did you weary of life under the stars?" 

 

            "I loved and missed my family," she said softly, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "My life with you was not hateful to me and I loved you." Hair that had long since turned dark silver from his time in the shadows beneath the stars slid over his shoulders, hiding his face as he bowed his head. 

_'Loved.' So, she had forsaken him at the last. She no longer loved him._

 

            His heart felt as though it had been caught between his forge and hammer and contracted painfully in his chest. He was surprised when he did not die of grief then and there. Fate, however, would not allow it. His death was not appointed yet. 

 

            "I have moved my brother to mercy. He will release you," Aredhel's words called him back from the precipice of despair. He looked up at her; and she looked on him with pity and sorrow but not anger as he saw flickering in Maeglin's eyes. 

 

            "You will not come with me." It was not a question. But a statement. And he knew, it was not for lack of love that she would not return with him.She knew her time was short- he knew her time was short- for he had placed the poison on the dart that had smote her. Remorse filled his dark eyes and he took her white hand in both of his own, trying to convey to her the depth of his grief and sorrow and guilt that was tearing his insides apart. She seemed to understand but spoke no word. 

 

Instead, she seemed to wither before his very eyes as a flower cut from the branch of Life and left too long in the sun. Maeglin stepped forward and took his mother into his arms. Without a word to his father, he bore her away and Eöl knew he would not see her again; and his heart mourned his mistakes. 

 

Far away down the hall, he heard the rush and clatter of many feet and the alarmed shouts of the guards for aid and Turgon. But, he knew the cause for their grief: the White Lady of Gondolin was gone. Aredhel had fallen into a deep shadow from which there would be no awakening. Eöl turned away from the door of his cell and cast himself down onto the stone where he fell into a dreamless sleep of dark despair. 

 

 

~*~

 

 

It was raining when he awoke. He heard it softly at first then louder as the drops fell onto the bars of his cage and dripped through the windows. He looked up and could scarcely see the slightest gleam of moonlight peeking from beneath the heavy clouds. He stood slowly, stiffly and walked to the small window, craning his neck to look outward and up. 

 

            Outside of his cell lay a small garden- for all things in Gondolin, even the dungeons- were beautiful. A singlular rose- silver in the moonlight though blood red by day- curled around the farthest right hand bar. The rain caressed his skin like the tears of heaven as Eöl touched it then pulled away as though burned. He glanced at the blood the thorns had drawn from his fingertip and smiled bitterly. 

 

The Rose seemed to be mocking him- the epitome of what he had lost. His beautiful home, his wife and his son and the life that would soon leave him by the trickle and drop. With no thought for anything but his rage, he reached through the bars and plucked the rose from its coiled berth, ignoring the thorns that bit into his palm as he tore it from its home. 

 

            Red petals, like tears of blood, rained upon the stone floor in concert with the water droplets that scattered them as they fell. Eöl crushed the petals underfoot, caring not who saw him now. Anger burned in his heart, withering his soul in its own flame. He blamed and hated Maeglin… he blamed and hated Turgon, the King of Gondolin, brother of Aredhel and the Noldor but most of all… most of all he blamed and hated himself. 

 

            Tossing the husk of the empty stem of the rose to the cold stone where it withered, he left it and watched the rain fall until the dawn colors stained the sky and the grey clouds rolled back. The golden sun fell through the bars and dimly lit the curling and withering petals on the floor. Eöl did not look at them. 

 

            His stomach rumbled with hunger that would never be satisfied and his throat was dry and hoarse from his hopelessness of the night before as he watched the sun rise for the last time. The palest of blues heralded the coming dawn and slowly a white light then pink and deepest gold filtered through the bars of his narrow window. A ball of flame broke the horizon and ascended ceremoniously to the clouds. 

 

            "A red sun rises," he murmured, closing his eyes against the brightening glare as the bloody sun dipped into a burnished gold. He did not know how many hours had passed but it seemed both a lifetime and a moment when he heard the grating of a key in the lock and a guard opened his cell door. The elf, flanked by another, was grim of face and his eyes were dark.  

 

            "Come, Dark Elf. Your time has come," one of the guards said grimly. They led him slowly from his cell and out into the White City. 

 

            The fair expanse of Gondolin shone blindingly in the afternoon sunlight, dazzling the sun-shy Dark Elf. Though among the people, there was a sea of black and many faces- grim and sad, angry and tense and others that looked upon the elf with self-righteous scorn in their eyes. _Justice would be done this day_ , they murmured behind their hands when the Dark Elf passed. 

 

The keening cries of anguished mourning could be heard above the ringing of the bells. As he had known, the Lady Aredhel had sickened and died during the night and when next he saw the King of Gondolin, Turgon was wrathful and glared balefully down at the elf of Nan Elmoth. Eöl lifted his head proudly, knowing what would befall him and caring not. Beside the King stood Maeglin, Sharp Glance, his only son and his last reminder of his beautiful Aredhel whom he would see soon in the Halls of Awaiting. 

 

The son spoke no word to his father and indeed, his eyes were cast elsewhere into the middle distance towards a precipice of dark rock that jutted from the sheer walls of the city to fall into a dark abyss below. [4] Eöl looked away from his son as Turgon spoke. 

 

"Once my sister moved me to mercy," the King of Gondolin said quietly though the crowd pressing in close strained to hear their Lord's words to this doomed murderer.  "-but for your machinations, she would be here still." Turgon's voice was like a whip crack of ice in the Dark Elf's ears but Eöl disregarded the words. He knew full well what he had done and did not regret it now. He had paid for his sin in blood and tears. The only thing left to him was redemption and death. Doom awaited him and he nearly wished Turgon would kill him and be done with it. 

 

"Have you nothing to say, Dark Elf?" The King questioned, he white oak staff of his leadership clenched in a strong, white-knuckled grip. Eöl merely stared up at him defiantly. Turgon turned dismissively away from him and nodded to the guards flanking him. They walked down the white steps and took the murderer by the arms but Eöl threw them off angrily, his hatred resurfacing. 

 

Filled with a bitter rage and overwhelmed with grief, he spun on his heel and cried out to Maeglin: _"So you forsake your father and his kin, ill-gotten son! Here shall you fail of all your hopes, and here may you yet die the same death as I!"[5]_ His words held the ring of prophecy but Maeglin held his ground and did not flinch though his heart was darkened by those words. With a last glare full of murderous hate. Eol turned and marched away down the white stone path with the guards at his side as he walked towards the black precipice of Caragdûr.  Turgon nodded to the guards who reached out with their lances to prod the elf towards the edge. Eöl stepped towards the abyss. 

 

Soon, he would be reunited with his Aredhel and they would walk the lands of Twilight together forever. As the Guard prodded him forward again with a spear, he paced fearlessly towards the brink of the cliff and looked down into the everlasting darkness that would house his body for eternity. 

 

In his right hand, he clasped the petal of a red rose. 

 

[1]- J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion Harper Collins Ed. Pg. 159-60

[2]- J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion Harper Collins Ed. Pg. 157

[3]- J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion Harper Collins Ed. Pg. 160

[4]- .R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion Harper Collins Ed. Pg. 160

[5]- J.R.R. Tolkien's The Silmarillion Harper Collins Ed. Pg. 160


End file.
